One Week
by Bertha Willis
Summary: Anne and Gilbert have one week together after their engagement before they go their separate ways. This is the story of those sweet first days.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Two figures stood by the fence, fingers intertwined and bodies pressed together, faint light shining against them from the white farmhouse beyond the yard. Were it not for that distant candlelight, they would have been surrounded by darkness, the new moon not enough to light the equally new happenings at the old gate.

So many times before the same two had stood at that spot, but never so close, in body or in heart. But, oh, how one afternoon, stretched into twilight, could change everything — of past, of present, of future.

Then finally — and with regret — the figures leaned together one more time, one more kiss before going their separate ways for the night, with new dreams, new hopes, new desires to light their paths, both thinking of the day when they would separate no more.

…

Anne Shirley took a meandering path back to Green Gables, the same way she did everything. Certainly a straight road would be easier to travel but without the delightful bends in it, around which she looked for whatever romance might await her. She stooped to smell the autumn flowers, to admire the perfumes floating in the night air before finally heading toward the light.

Into that house she had come more than 11 years before and quickly found it to be the home she'd never had. The old abode had filled her with such joy, and she doing the same to it and its inhabitants. But as she crossed the threshold, she knew the depths of her happiness never had been as deep as at that moment. For she had all but given up hoping her path would take the bend it had that night, making the joy elicited from it all the sweeter.

The two venerable ladies sitting in the kitchen watched Anne come in and smiled to each other. They loved her as if she was their own flesh, and they reveled in her happiness. But they also knew her well enough to know that not an understandable word would she utter that night; so they didn't object as she headed down the hallway and up the stairs saying nothing but an airy "goodnight" as she went to her own quarters.

Alone in her girlhood room, Anne knelt before the window, just as she had on a stormy night earlier in the summer. While that night her mind had filled with dark thoughts and despair and sorrow as never before, this night — oh this night— she was filled with a bliss even her vivid imagination had never conjured.

Her mind wandered first to the way her heart had raced as he asked about her unfulfilled dreams, how she couldn't even find the words to answer his next question so great was the joy in her heart, how he hadn't needed an answer anyway.

Then to their first kiss. He had pulled her gently to her feet, their fingers intertwined in a way they'd never been before. Then he had leaned down to her and their lips met softly for the first time.

She had expected to feel awkward. They had been friends so long, and this, this was so different. But all she knew in that moment was that it was perfect, the way she felt, the way he made her feel.

That quick, sweet kiss roused something in her she didn't know existed. Before she had time to think, she had pulled her hands away from his, ignoring the sudden worry that crept on his face, and ran them up his chest before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him back down to her.

She didn't know what she was doing, really. But for once she stopped thinking, stopped imagining even, and just did what felt right. Their lips met again, and she kissed him passionately, years of repressed desires and ignored feelings in one kiss. She noticed his startled reaction, then felt him recover, his arms slipping around her waist and pulling her closer until their bodies pressed tightly against each other.

When they separated some time later, she dropped her gaze to her shoes.

"Sorry," she said shyly.

"You're sorry?" he asked incredulously. "For what?"

"Well, that was rather forward of me," she answered with a flutter of her eyelashes and just the slightest smile.

He pulled her close again. "Don't ever apologize for that," he whispered as he kissed her again.

And even then, hours later as she stared out into the dark night, just the memories of those kisses, and the ones that followed, brought goose bumps to her skin despite the warmth she felt coursing through every part of her body. And she could still feel the trembling she felt up and down her spine, running along her as his hands had.

It hadn't just been the kisses and caresses they shared, of course. They had so much to talk about, so much to explain. And now it all made sense. They didn't have to wonder or worry anymore, because they knew now they belonged to each other, that everything had been meant to be all along, that the past was over.

Anne reflected back on the first night she finally spoke to him, so many years earlier. That night, like the one at hand, she had sat at her window, admiring the beauty of the world and in her heart.

"God's in heaven, all's right with the world," she whispered again.

…  
>If Gilbert Blythe had ever truly been happy before that night, he couldn't remember it. Nothing had ever been like this. He felt like running, or skipping or dancing all the way home. Instead, he walked, but if there was a spring in his step that had never been there before, it was no wonder.<p>

For nearly 11 years, she had been his dream. And like so many dreams, the reality had eluded him, always staying just beyond his grasp.

But finally, that day, she had met his hands when he reached for her. With one look, they had cemented their futures, putting their faith and trust in each other. And with every kiss, every touch, every glance, he knew she loved him just as he loved her.

Quietly he opened the front door of his home and crept in, knowing his parents had long ago gone to bed, not expecting a prompt return after what they had learned earlier.

Gilbert could have stayed in that garden forever, holding her and murmuring the words she had never before let him say. But at last, as the sun began to sink, they left the sweet spot, leaving behind the doubts and worries both had carried there.

It was her idea to go first to his parents. But as they approached, he felt her grip on his hand tighten and read the uncertainty on her face.

"Do you … do you think they'll be happy?" she asked quietly.

"Of course they will be," he responded, smiling at her. "Why wouldn't they be? The girl I've been in love with since I was 13 is going to marry me."

"I don't know. Just … I think your mother used to like me, but ever since, ever since … the other time …" her voice faded away.

Gilbert stopped and pulled her close.

"I never told them. Never told anyone. And that's all in the past. All that matters is you're here now," he said, kissing her forehead and her nose and her lips.

She smiled, but it was a nervous little smile he hadn't seen on her face before. And she drew closer and closer to his side as they approached the house, as if to fade into him completely.

His parents knew the moment they walked in; he could tell by the tears sparkling in his mother's eyes and the mischievous grin his father was trying to hide. So he told them right off and watched as his mother wrapped his girl in a hug and watched as the fears melted away.

And they stayed there for supper, and he watched her talk and laugh with his parents and felt his heart swell with the knowledge of how perfectly their lives fit together.

Then he took her hand and they went to Green Gables, to a pair of ladies who were no more surprised than his parents and just as happy.

She walked with him to the gate, as she always had. And they lingered there, as they always had. But this time, the words were sweeter and the looks more tender. And this time he could kiss her goodbye, could feel her heart beat against his.

Gilbert sat in the room where months earlier his fever had raged and his body had nearly given up. Many bitter moments he had endured there, but she had never left his mind, even in the darkest times, even when he thought there was no chance.

And as he looked out his window, at the beauty of the world before him, Gilbert thought of many things: how perfect her hand fit into his, the sweet taste of her kiss, the way her body felt pressed against his.

But the moment that he would remember until his dying day, the one for which he had waited more than a decade, was the one right before he walked home that night. They had shared that last sweet kiss, and she brought her lips close to his ear, her breath hot on his cheek.

And the whisper came not to keep anyone else from hearing but because it was only for him.

"I love you."

In that moment, he knew no matter what else life brought, that would remain. And he wouldn't want for anything else.

_So, here we go! This is just an introduction, so don't despair. I plan to wind in more details. My mind wanders, so of course, my story will feature some flashbacks to get some other parts in. I'm basing the timeline partly on the dates on Anne's letters in Anne of Windy Poplars and partly on my own imagination. (Anne's first letter was on Monday, Sept. 12, and she had gone to Summerside the day before, and Gilbert already was in Kingsport.) There was a new moon on Sept. 2, 1887, and that seemed like an appropriate occurrence to start our tale._


	2. Saturday, Sept 3, 1887

_(I have been overwhelmed by the reviews on that first chapter. Thank you all so much, and I hope I can live up to that praise! This took me a little longer than usual to write, but I think I made it work._

_As always, thank you to L.M. Montgomery for creating such lovely characters.)_

**Saturday, Sept. 3, 1887**

Light streamed through the kitchen windows and into the eyes of the raven haired woman sitting at the table. She dropped her weary head into her hands and looked at the empty tea cup in front of her.

Diana Wright had dreamed of motherhood most of her life. And the dimpled little boy who had entered her life only months earlier had been every bit as delightful as her dreams, his toothless smiles filling her with a joy she never imagined. But mornings like this, preceded by nights of crying and constant feeding and only minutes, so it seemed, of rest, a little part of her wished she might have followed her bosom friend's path to higher education.

She remembered, in the months awaiting little Fred, how the older mothers had told her about the weariness she'd feel, but she supposed they were being dramatic. Hadn't those same women told her of the perils of marriage?

Someday, Diana thought as she rose to pull shut the curtains, she'd warn her friends just the same way. As if on cue, her eyes alighted on a red-haired woman in the distance.  
>Diana smiled. If a visit from Anne Shirley couldn't pull her out of her daze, nothing could. She watched the slender form as she got closer and realized that her dearest chum looked to be nearly skipping as she approached Lone Willow Farm. And she had the most radiant look on her face that Diana had ever seen her wear.<p>

Diana gasped with joy, surmising at once the reason for Anne's unexpected visit. Oh, she had known this day would come eventually — had known it, in fact, far longer than anyone would have suspected.

She knew it as she watched Gilbert try in vain to enter Anne's good graces in their childhood, and she saw it in the flush that crept to Anne's face when she heard his name. She saw it in their rivalry and in the stolen glances she saw them give each other when they thought no one else was watching. She noticed it in the way they went overnight from reluctant acquaintances to the best of friends — such good friends that she had to stifle a little jealousy until she realized she shared a similar connection with Fred Wright.

She read it in their letters from Redmond, sprinkled with each other's names and in the way Gilbert never failed to escort Anne to any event in Kingsport or on the Island.

Even when Anne rejected Gilbert's first proposal, Diana still held out hope. Gilbert wrote Diana still, and she knew his feelings for Anne would never change. He wrote of how it was easier to be the faithful escort of a woman betrothed to another than to let everyone know he was still pining for Anne.

Diana's belief that her friends belonged together never wavered even as Anne indicated she would marry the man she met in Kingsport who matched her childish dreams. Because Diana had seen the look on Anne's face when she spoke of Royal Gardner and it was nothing compared to the look when anyone mentioned Gilbert and certainly nothing compared to the way they had looked together at Diana's wedding.

As Gilbert's despair became apparent in his letters that spring, Diana urged him not to give up hope. And then she prayed she was right. She breathed a sigh of relief when Anne returned with news not that she was getting married but that she had come to her senses, at least in part.

The relief was short lived as news of Gilbert's fever traveled through the town. Diana felt helpless, unable to trek to Echo Lodge with a newborn in tow to tell Anne the news.

But when Anne's return to Green Gables coincided with Gilbert's recovery, Diana again believed. She hoped, by the look in Anne's eyes, her friend had finally realized what everyone else knew all along. And when Anne, with tears in her eyes, had confessed to Diana her feelings for Gilbert, she knew it was only just a matter of time. Diana couldn't betray Gilbert's confidences, so she let Anne find out for herself just how deep his love for her truly was.

And now at the sight of Anne tripping merrily down the path toward her house, Diana felt tears sting in her eyes from the fulfillment of knowing all had been made right.

Diana threw her arms around Anne's neck as she came in the house.

"Oh, Anne, I'm so happy for you!" she said.

Anne looked wide-eyed at her friend. "Who told you?"

"No one, dearest, I just know you too well. I can see it on your face. Tell me everything."

Anne told Diana about the walk to Hester Gray's garden and how Gilbert had told her about the dream he hadn't been able to give up. But for maybe the first time, Anne didn't tell her everything. She remembered how left out and inexperienced she had felt at the news of Diana's engagement and realized now why that was. Just as Diana had Fred to tell her secrets and share her thoughts, Anne had Gilbert. And nothing had ever felt so natural.

"Diana, even I could never have imagined how gloriously happy I am. I can't believe I ever thought I didn't love him. And last night was so beautiful, so perfect. I don't think I've stopped smiling."

"You're going to be so happy together, I know it," Diana said, a beaming smile on her face. But the smile disappeared at the squalling she heard coming from the bedroom.

Anne grinned. "Can I get him?"

"Of course," Diana replied, trying to hide her relief at not having to be the one to go get the child swaddled in the bassinet.

Anne reemerged from the bedroom with little Fred, who had stopped crying and was giving Anne his gummiest of grins.

"Oh, hims is the happiest wittle fellow, yes hims is," Anne cooed. Without another word, Diana knew Anne was imagining her future as she never had before. With a quiet smile, Diana tucked away all the well-meaning tales of sleepless nights and exhaustion and worry, seeing no sense in dampening her friends hopes just yet.

"Would you like to stay to lunch?" Diana asked.

Anne shook her head, her smile still lighting her face. "I'm going to meet Gilbert, but maybe another time."

And Diana grinned back at her with the smile of someone who had seen that coming, too.

…

Half an hour later, Anne ambled back down the path from which she had come. She pondered how it could be possible that her whole world had changed the night before but nothing looked any different. Shouldn't the sky be a little brighter, the water a little clearer, the flowers a little more joyful than the day before?

She made her way to the Dryad's Bubble where she sat down among the ferns and waited to hear Gilbert's footsteps coming over the old log bridge. Her mind wandered as she gazed at the spring. She thought back to all the times she had sat there with him in the past without realizing why her heart beat a little fast when he smiled at her. And then she smiled at the memories, thankful for everything that had brought her to that point.

So lost was she in her thoughts that she missed the anticipated footfalls, and Gilbert found her there, her arms wrapped around her knees, her head leaning against a big white birch. She was staring into the spring, and just as she had been the day he met her, she was completely oblivious to his existence.

He stood there for a moment, watching her lost in her daydreams. He let out a soft laugh at how similar she looked to the little girl who would not pay any attention to him in school and wondered at his luck.

The sound of his laugh pulled Anne out of her dream world, and she sprang to her feet and scampered to his side. He slid his arms around her waist and gazed down into her eyes.

"So, yesterday really wasn't just a beautiful dream?" he asked.

"If it was, I had the same one. So we might as well just go on as if it was real," she said with a smile as he stooped to kiss her.

Anne's mind went blank for a moment as she lost herself in the still-unfamiliar sensations of Gilbert's lips on hers, his arms holding her close.

"So, what do you have there?" Anne asked, nodding toward the basket at their feet after catching her breath moments later.

"Ahh, well, let's see," Gilbert said as he spread a blanket from the basket onto the ground. "Lunch for my queen."

"Did you prepare all this?" Anne asked, eyeing the sandwiches and cookies and other delicacies Gilbert was setting on the blanket.

"Of course I did … some of it," he answered with a grin.

Anne laughed as she sat down next to him on the blanket and kissed his cheek.

As they ate and talked, Anne noticed Gilbert fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. She had been doing most of the talking, which wasn't unusual, but he had been carrying far less of the conversation than usual. She wasn't used to seeing him nervous; even the day before, he had seemed as confident and sure of himself as ever.

When the remains of their lunch had been placed back in the basket, Anne slid closer to Gilbert and laid her hand on his forearm.

"What's wrong?" she asked as she looked anxiously into his eyes.

He smiled and put his arm around her, pulling her closer. "What could be wrong? I finally have my Anne-girl," he said, laughing as she looked at him in surprise at his use of Diana's aunt's old name for her. "I told you I liked it."

She cuddled into his side. "I like it when you call me that. But, darling, I can tell something is wrong. Won't you tell me what it is?"

Gilbert sighed and nodded. "I should have talked to you about it yesterday, but I didn't want to ruin anything. I just don't know what you'll think."

"You can tell me anything."

He turned to face her then, taking her hands in his. "It's just … while I was sick, or actually after I began to recover, I had so much time to think and I realized being a doctor would be more than just helping people. The doctor had to tell my parents he didn't think I'd live," he said, taking a deep breath before he continued. "Anne, I don't know if I can stay in Avonlea after I'm through with school. I can't imagine having to give that kind of news to friends and family and people I've known my whole life."

Anne squeezed his hands sympathetically but remained quiet. She could tell he wasn't done talking.

"I'll understand if you don't want to leave here," he said. "I just don't know if I can stay."

Gilbert looked at her hopefully, terrified at what she might say. Green Gables and Avonlea had been her first real home after years of being cast off by the world. What if she didn't want to leave or wouldn't go with him? Even if she truly loved him at last, would it be enough to leave her home and all she loved?

But Anne didn't make him wait long. She rose to her knees and slid her arms around his neck. She kissed him quickly before pulling back.

"The past two years without you were some of the loneliest times of my life, even if I didn't realize it at the time. But that night, when I thought you were going to die," Anne stopped, her eyes closed as she remembered the helpless, hopeless way she felt that stormy night. She opened her eyes and stared into his. "That night I knew for sure I couldn't live without you. I love it here, but I love you more. And I'll go with you to the ends of the earth if that's what you want."

Gilbert pulled her toward him and settled her onto his lap. He gazed into her eyes — the eyes he had realized from the first weren't like the eyes of any other girl he'd ever seen — and grazed his hand along her jaw line. He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her softly before trailing kisses down her white throat. He had never before really noticed women's fashions but found himself appreciating whomever had decided to make it stylish to leave the high, stiff collars off their dresses. He felt Anne's fingers running through his hair and heard her soft sigh at the new sensations. When he raised his eyes again to meet hers, Gilbert saw something he had never seen in those gray orbs before — a hunger or desire that made him catch his breath. The kisses that followed were less gentle and more frantic, each moment more passionate than the previous.

They finally separated after what seemed an eternity to them, chests heaving and breathless, and their eyes met again. Neither said a word at first, as they continued to stare in awe at each other.

Finally it was Anne who found her voice.

"I would prefer to stay on the Island, though, if we can't stay in Avonlea."

Gilbert's usually sharp mind had been lost in Anne's touch and it took him a moment to understand. He helped her to her feet then knelt before her.

"Anything for you, Queen Anne," he said as he kissed her hand.

…

Hand in hand, they wandered all their old haunts until the sun began to sink in the sky. They found themselves back at the old gate at Green Gables, where Gilbert would leave Anne for the night.

"So I suppose we're the talk of the whole town by now," he said, nodding toward the house.

Anne giggled. "Not yet. Remember, Mrs. Lynde sprained her ankle yesterday. I don't think she could hobble house to house when she couldn't even make it around the kitchen this morning."

"Oh, I just assumed our news would be to her recovery would be something akin to what the news that you weren't engaged was to mine," he said, the handsome grin Anne loved spreading across his face.

"I never thought about it that way," Anne replied, kissing his cheek.

Gilbert clasped her hands. "I did have another question for you. My parents are going to White Sands tomorrow to visit some friends. I'll be quite lonesome sitting all by myself at church, so I was wondering if I could accompany you instead of being all alone."

Anne pondered for a moment how the two of them walking into the church would accelerate the spreading of the news of their engagement without Mrs. Lynde's inevitable spin on it. "I would be delighted. And of course, you'll have to come to dinner here afterwards."

"I would be honored," he said as he kissed her softly again.


	3. Sunday, Sept 4, 1887

_(A.N.: Thank you all, as always, for the kind reviews. I'm afraid my pace has slowed considerably, but I'll try to update as soon as I can.)_

**Sunday, Sept. 4, 1887**

The churchyard at Avonlea was like most other small town churchyards in that everyone would gather there before services to gossip about all that had happened in the past week. During the service, of course, they all listened with rapt attention so they could gossip afterward about whomever the sermon seemed to be directed.

This Sunday was quieter at first, at least in part because the person through whom all Avonlea gossip ran had been unable to make any visits the past two days. So, without much in the way of fresh news to talk over, the congregants were having a hard time making conversation.

Of course, even before Mrs. Rachel Lynde had turned her ankle on a collection of Davy's marbles, she had been tight lipped about the goings on about which she had the best vantage point. Everyone in town, young, old and in between, had noticed how often Gilbert Blythe had been to Green Gables since his recovery from typhoid fever; and everyone knew he wasn't going there to see Mrs. Lynde. But that good woman had been uncharacteristically tight lipped about the matter as of late, and so the townsfolk, for once, had to carry on about the matter without her input.

"I'm certain she's just leading him on again. I can't believe he hasn't more sense than that," Mrs. Pye told Mrs. Sloane.

"Well, I, for one, think she's realizing her age. Why, just the other day I was telling her that all of her beaux would slip through her fingers if she wasn't careful. Not everyone can be as lucky as our Jane, you know," said Mrs. Andrews.

"Of course, she already passed over our Charlie, and I don't really think she could have done better," Mrs. Sloane said.

"Well, Gilbert certainly could," Mrs. Pye said with a sigh as she looked toward her own girls, both unspoken for, for reasons she alone couldn't understand.

Before either Mrs. Andrews or Mrs. Sloane was forced to answer, Davy Keith barreled into the churchyard toward the other boys standing along the faded white fence. Some ways behind him was Marilla Cuthbert, with Dora, as prim and complacent as her brother was rowdy.

But, as was far from uncommon, few people paid any mind to the Marilla and Dora. Instead, it was the pair walking behind them at a languid pace, quite lost to the rest of the world, who caught everyone's attention.

"Why, he's holding her hand!" Mrs. Sloane said, bringing her hand to her chest. "You don't suppose …"

"Well, they do look quite nice together," Mrs. Andrews said.

"It's hardly decent," Mrs. Pye interjected.

…

"You do realize what a commotion we're causing, don't you?" Anne asked, nodding in the direction of the group of women in the distance.

"Well, I, for one, don't care," Gilbert said, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. "What do you suppose they'd say if I kissed you right now?"

Anne leaned into him, running the hand that wasn't intertwined with his along his arm. "I don't think we'd ever hear the end of it."

Gilbert stopped walking but kept hold of Anne's hand, spinning her to face him. "I think I will."

"Gilbert Blythe, you'll do no such thing!"

Anne bit her lip to try to keep from smiling back at him. She met his eyes, glints of green and gold sparkling roguishly at her.

Gilbert bent his head toward hers, and for a moment, she thought he really was going to kiss her, there in front of the entire church congregation. Her heart pounded in anticipation, even as he passed by her lips and instead went to her ear.

"I don't believe you would have stopped me after all," he said, his whispery voice sending goosebumps up and down Anne's arms.

They continued down the path to the church, where Diana met them with a shake of her head, saving them from the questions of the rest of the town.

"You two really can't do anything without making a scene, can you?" Diana asked, her intention of scolding them falling flat as she stifled a laugh.

Anne and Gilbert looked at each other, then back to Diana, shrugging in unison.

…

They settled into the Blythe pew, arm brushing against arm, both quite aware of the glances they still were receiving. Were it not for those glances, nothing would have seemed terribly out of the ordinary, save Anne's change of vantage point for the service. They had gone often to church together in those first years at Redmond, though usually with Priscilla or Stella or Phil or Charlie or other chums.

Sitting there, in his family's pew, Anne again was struck by the sense that she was exactly where she was supposed to be. When little Fred began to wail across from the Wright pew, they exchanged shy glances at one another, and Anne hoped for what the future might hold for them. And as they held a hymnal between them and Gilbert slyly inched his fingers over her, she thought her heart would leap from her chest in happiness.

The minister announced the scripture for the day, and Anne dutifully opened her Bible to the first chapter of James and searched for the 13th verse. She studied the words as she heard them booming from the pulpit.

"Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man: But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death."

Anne stared wide-eyed at the page. She felt quite certain Gilbert must be able to feel the heat rising from her cheeks and hear the thundering beat of her heart.

Had she been capable of hearing the sermon, she'd have realized that the temptations of which good reverend wanted to speak were in the way of the temptation to put less than a full tithe in the offering plate and use the money elsewhere — an attempt at a less-than-subtle hint that the church coffers had been far from overflowing of late.

But Anne's consciousness already was racing in another direction altogether — back to the blanket by the spring the day before, when torrid kisses rendered her mind momentarily blank and the feel of Gilbert's lips against her neck made her wonder if there were any _other_ places on her body from which he might evoke such pleasure in her.

Temptation. Anne remembered feeling an "irresistible temptation" from time to time in her childhood, usually a desire to lose herself in imagination or pick up a novel in lieu of finishing a chore or, memorably, to transform her ruddy tresses to black. But those were all years ago. The unshakable compass developed through years of life with Marilla and Sunday School lessons and her strong sense of self had rendered most temptations far more resistible, despite her occasional impulsivity.

But that was before she'd felt Gilbert's arms around her and before she'd looked — really looked — into the depths of those bright hazel eyes. Before she'd felt that trembling feeling that ran through her body every time his lips met hers. Before her thoughts had started drifting into the uncharted portions of her mind, places she'd ignored or refused to acknowledge.

Anne again read the text. Drawn away … by lust? The thought simply had never entered her mind. Then again, none of the thoughts circling through her mind had ever been there before the last few days. She reflected on how much she really had wanted Gilbert to kiss her outside the church and wondered if she'd ever get control of this feeling.

She sat transfixed, her attention focused only on the words in front of her, until she felt the gentle pressure of Gilbert's hand on hers. She looked over at him, and he smiled tenderly at her.

Anne tried to push the worry and guilt she suddenly felt at her thoughts and actions. Before she knew it, the service was over. Hand-in-hand, they walked back to Green Gables, and if Gilbert had guessed at what she was thinking, he didn't say anything.

…

Marilla watched with amusement as Gilbert settled among them at the table with ease, how he teased Davy, how he complimented Dora on the cake she'd made, how he kept a straight face through one of Rachel Lynde's infamous rants. For Gilbert to be at ease was not the amusing part, of course.

No, the amusing part was how his present state of calm contrasted with his visit to the same kitchen a few days earlier.

Thursday night, Anne had gone to Alice Penhallow's wedding, Mrs. Lynde had gone to visit Mrs. Harrison, and the twins were already in bed. Marilla had just finished cleaning up the kitchen to its usual tidiness when she heard a knock at the door.

"Hello, Gilbert," Marilla said in surprise at the sight of him on the porch, hat in his hand. "I'm sorry; Anne's gone to a wedding in Grafton tonight."

Gilbert shifted his weight from his left to his right and tapped his cap awkwardly against his leg.

"Umm, yes. I know. I actually was hoping to speak to you, if you have a moment, Miss Cuthbert."

Marilla turned into the house to hide the smirk that she felt creeping onto her face. There was only one reason the boy would show up all out of sorts and wish to speak to _her_.

"Of course, come in."

Gilbert sat down at the table, tapping his foot slightly as he looked at his hands.

"Can I get you anything?" Marilla asked.

"No, no thank you," Gilbert replied. He took a deep breath, then listened as the words spilled out. "You see, I wanted to ask, umm, I wanted to ask your permission to ask Anne to marry me."

His eyes shifted back to his hands, so he didn't see the smile on Marilla's face.

"Well, you certainly have my blessing."

Gilbert breathed a sigh of relief. "I just didn't want anything to be wrong this time," he said.

Marilla chuckled. "I daresay you didn't do anything wrong the first time. Anne can be … stubborn, though I'm sure you know that as well as anyone."

"Oh, I certainly know that. But I was wrong the first time. I didn't wait for her."

Marilla smiled again, thinking not for the first time of how different her life could have been with a different choice or two — including how the young man in front of her may have been her own son rather than asking her for her girl's hand. "Sometimes we think we make mistakes, but a higher power has a different plan in store for us. And everything tends to come out right in the end when we yield to that," she told him.

So, days later, to see the proof — in the form of the two young people at her table whose eyes barely left each other — Marilla knew for sure that nothing in her past had been a mistake if it had led to such happiness.

…

Mrs. Rachel Lynde stood at the window that evening watching Anne and Gilbert wander through the Green Gables garden, talking and laughing hand-in-hand. She sighed in contentment and pride at the scene before her — contentment, of course, because she held both young people in high esteem, and pride because she felt reasonably certain she had a hand in bringing that scene about.

If anyone thought they had an in with the Lord above, it was Mrs. Lynde. While others may have viewed her as too quick to speak her mind and too prone to gossip, Mrs. Lynde considered herself the very paragon of virtue. Her rather simple life, of girlhood, marriage and motherhood, was to her the very essence of existence, and she felt strongly she owed it all to divine entreaties and faithful service to the church. Even after her husband's death, her prayerful decision to move into Green Gables had seemed like Providence itself had a hand in it, since Marilla's careful housekeeping gave Mrs. Lynde all the more time to devote to the church.

Oh, yes, Mrs. Lynde trusted Providence almost as much as she trusted herself, and the only time she'd had to doubt in it was when it seemed liked the scene before her in the garden wasn't going to come true.

She'd always prided herself on her ability to spot potential matches among the young fry of Avonlea. She'd seen Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe as good prospects even before the former would speak to the latter. When they finally became friends, then, the matter was as good as done in her mind.

Of course, she never considered that perhaps Anne's stubbornness could be stronger than Providence itself. But still she prayed, quite certain that she would be right in the end.

And, in the end, even Providence could not yield to Mrs. Lynde, or so she believed.

"I told you, Marilla, I told you that would be a match someday," she said as she turned from the window. "Providence wouldn't have it any other day."


	4. Monday, Sept 5, 1887

_(Your reviews are all so lovely and help keep me moving. My next installment may be a while coming, as I plan to hit the road for Thanksgiving. Then again, if I get snowed into my house in the next 12 hours, I'll have all sorts of time to write!)_

**Monday, Sept. 5, 1887**

_My dearest Mrs. Blake,_

_Before I begin, I must apologize for neglecting my correspondence to you scandalously. I've had a somewhat eventful summer, for which I believe, in part, I owe you some thanks._

_As you know, I was in somewhat of a state of self-disgust after graduation. And though I reveled in your happiness, and those of all my other friends whose lives were flourishing around me, I couldn't help but feel my own life was lodged like a wheel in mud. I looked forward to the end of summer, when I could move to Summerside and again have some purpose in my life._

_I spent three weeks in July with some friends in a little out-of-the-way cottage where time always stands still and where even the small-town gossip has no place. The visit sufficiently boosted my spirit so that by the time I returned home, I was quite nearly Anne again._

_But everything crashed down again shortly after I crossed the threshold of Green Gables and heard the news I'd missed. A few quick minutes of small talk culminated in Davy informing me in his typical tactless manner that Gilbert Blythe was dying. It seems that while I was away, Gilbert had taken down with typhoid fever. The doctor gave a grim prognosis. And I was devastated._

_A thunderstorm raged that night outside and in my heart. And over and over again I remembered something you asked me when I refused Gilbert and I told you I wanted to reconstruct my world. "Without any Gilbert in it?" I could hear you saying that as clear as I could hear the rolls of thunder outside my window. Do you remember, Phil, how you told me my imagination had tricked me and I didn't know love when I saw it? Well, that horrible night I finally saw it._

_As fate would have it, Gilbert's fever broke that night, and he recovered very quickly. In fact, the doctor was amazed by his recovery. It turns out he received a certain letter from a certain person giving him some unexpected advice. So, it may be that you are to thank for his rapid recuperation._

_I wonder now, looking back, if you weren't baiting me a bit at times the past two years, Phil. It turns out Christine Stuart was engaged the whole time she was in Kingsport to someone from her hometown. I have the teensiest feeling you knew that all along and you were trying to see if you could stir something in me by passing along gossip from time to time._

_But, you see, as you were quite right all along, I can't blame you a bit._

_When Gilbert was well enough to leave the house, he came to see me, and we spent the next month getting to know each other again. I still did not know he was not engaged to Christine and was just very nearly giving up hope that he felt anything for me but friendship._

_Friday we went for a long walk to a long-forgotten garden I've always loved, filled with old fashioned flowers and off by itself back through the meadows. There Gilbert proposed to me again, and this time I was not "an idiot" as you so eloquently called me the first time. _

_And, oh, Phil, I'm so gloriously, perfectly happy. I can never thank you enough for knowing me better than I knew myself._

_Gilbert has three years of medical school before we can be married, but I assure you that you are already penciled in to receive an invitation._

_Thank you again, darling, for everything._

_Yours,_

_Anne Shirley_

Anne sealed up her letter to Phil with a smile and marched it to the post office. Then she wandered through the fall splendor of reds and oranges and yellows until she reached her destination and sat on the ledge overlooking the shore.

The grasses she lounged upon had lost the vibrant green of summer and were well on their way to settling to the more subdued hues of autumn, the drying blades pricking her legs through her thick skirts.

Anne wrapped her arms around her knees and gazed absentmindedly at the swaying tide, at the steady push and pull of the waves, at the way the sea released itself onto the soft sand. Her breaths matched the steady pulse of the water, her chest rising and falling with the ebb and flow.

A shadow fell over her and she shivered as she felt Gilbert's lips on her cheek. She rested her head against his shoulder and sighed.

"You're rather quiet again," Gilbert said.

"Mmm. Am I?" she asked.

"Yes, unusually quiet. Actually, you have been since church yesterday."

Anne felt her cheeks flush, and her eyes fluttered down to her knees. "Have I been? I guess I've just been thinking."

"About anything in particular?"

"N-no, not really."

"You can tell me," Gilbert said. He studied her reddened cheeks and downturned eyes for a moment. "It's about the sermon yesterday, right?"

Anne's head shot up, her worried eyes meeting his bright ones. "I … yes, I guess so."

"Hmm. I've never known you to worry so over the church's finances," he said, his mouth twitching a little as he spoke and his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Anne didn't answer, and her lashes fluttered down again.

"Anne, tell me," he said, pleading as he wrapped his arm around her. "What is bothering you?"

She sunk against him again, unwilling to meet his gaze. She turned her attention again to the tide as she sought the words to break through her embarrassment.

"It's just … that passage … and these thoughts and feelings and … I just … I've never felt like this before, Gilbert. I've never felt so drawn to something … someone. I don't know. It just made me worry … or think … or wonder … if the way I feel about you, if it's … well, improper or wrong. And I wonder if I could be, you know, drawn away …" her voice trailed off.

Gilbert tightened his arm around her waist and kissed her red hair, resting against his white shirt.

"Anne, you know I respect you, don't you?" Gilbert asked, his voice more serious.

She raised her head and looked at him. "Do you suppose I'd be _planning_ to marry you if I didn't know that?" she asked, her green eyes flashing in a way he recognized all too well.

He chuckled a little. "I suppose not. But, Anne, you know I'd never do anything …"

"And you don't think I know that? I … I … I'm more worried about myself. I'm the one who's always been too impulsive, too romantic. What if I get carried away by these feelings? And … and take you with me?"

She settled her head against his shoulder again, rendered too shy by her own words and thoughts to look into his eyes. So she missed the small smile playing on his lips as he ran he rested his head against hers.

Gilbert was finding all of it too unbelievable, too wonderful to believe. Just weeks ago, he had wondered if he'd ever be able to win her love, and mere months before he thought he had lost her forever. To be holding her, hearing her confess such desires, it was almost too much for him.

But he knew her worry was real, because he felt it, too, in the way she touched him and the way he couldn't pull her close enough to satisfy him.

Gilbert ran his fingers along Anne's face with the hand not holding her to him, and gently he tilted her face up.

"I love you," he said in a whisper, his thumb stroking her soft white face. "I'll confess, I've had … such thoughts about you for much longer than I'd even prefer to admit. So, I know what you mean. But, Anne, I think you're underestimating yourself. You're nowhere near as impulsive as you once may have been. And whatever happens, we'll face it together."

"I love you, too," she said with a weak smile. She ran her hands along the buttons of his shirt. "I just don't know how much I trust myself."

"We'll just have to trust in each other, then. Let's not waste what little time we have together worrying about things that haven't happened," Gilbert said before kissing her gently. "Come, why don't we go for our walk now."

Anne acquiesced, and Gilbert helped her to her feet, but his words fell harder on her heart than any worry about temptation.

"When do you leave for Kingsport?" she asked.

"Saturday. When do you go to Summerside?"

"I guess I'll have to go up on Sunday and find somewhere to board, then move my things up on Monday. Classes begin Tuesday."

"As do mine."

Anne's eyes shifted to the horizon as they walked, but her mind already was on the end of the week.

"Something still is bothering you, isn't it?" Gilbert asked.

"Not still. It just started," she answered. "I guess I've been so blissfully happy the last few days that I forgot it all has to come to an end. And now I feel so ridiculous. The past few years I could have spent all my time with you, and now that I've realized that's what I want more than anything, we must be apart."

"But it's not forever. Christmas will be here before you know it."

"Not soon enough," she said, a tear running down her cheek.

Gilbert brushed the tear away and left his hand lingering on her cheek. "I know. But, Anne-girl, let's just enjoy this week. There's no sense in missing each other when we're still together."

Anne nodded and leaned into his hand, her eyes closed to stop the flow of tears she could feel threatening to overtake her.

She tried to just relish the feeling of her hand in his, knowing that soon all she'd have to hold is his letters. But still her thoughts were scattered, and Gilbert could sense her discontent. Soon the pinks and oranges of the sunset reminded them they should start for home.

"Anne, could I ask you something?" Gilbert asked. He waited for her nod before he continued. "When you said you'd never had these kinds of thoughts or feelings you have for me, does that mean you never had such thoughts about Roy Gardner?"

Anne stopped walking and glared at Gilbert. He continued as if it were something he had been pondering for awhile, glad to see the familiar spirit in her eyes. "You were in love with him. It just seems …"

"Gilbert Blythe! I told you … I told you, I never was in love with him. I imagined it all, and I told you that. He may have matched some idiotic vision I had of what it would be like to be in love, but I never actually was," Anne said, her face growing red. Gilbert walked back to her. "I was in love with you the whole time! The only person I've ever been in love with is you! So of course I never …"

In a smooth motion, he wrapped one arm around her waist and cradled her head with his other hand. Then he silenced the stream of words coming from her mouth with his own, pulling her into a drawn out kiss.

Anne felt her moment of anger drift away as she lost herself in the kiss. She tried to look annoyed as they finally separated, but she couldn't quite pull it off as long as Gilbert was still holding her against him.

"See, you won't miss everything about me. I'm afraid I've never been able to resist teasing you," he said, an impish grin on his face. "And that is nice to hear."

Anne sighed and leaned into his chest. "Are you going to use that against me the rest of my life?"

Gilbert laughed a little. "Well, as long as I get that kind of reaction, I probably will. For the rest of our lives."

"The rest of our lives, huh?" Anne asked, glancing up at him. "I like the sound of that."

"Me too."

They took their time walking home, enjoying the shadowy path and their easy companionship. Anne wondered once again how she ever could have imagined that the bond between them was anything but love. She told him as much.

"I have no idea either," Gilbert responded. "Of course, I knew it all along."

She elbowed him lightly in the side but didn't protest. He was right, and for once she had nothing to counter his words.

He kissed her softly when they reached the gate at Green Gables. "Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"

"All I have to do is spend every moment with you I can."

"Well, I have an errand to run in White Sands. Would you like to come with me?"

"Yes. What kind of errand?"

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see."


	5. Tuesday, Sept 6, 1887

_(Thank you so much for the lovely reviews of the last chapter. I'm so glad you liked it. Now, as predicted by a few, Anne needs a certain trinket before she can leave for Summerside …)_

**Tuesday, Sept. 6, 1887**

The sun had just begun painting the horizon in oranges and pinks when Gilbert came for Anne. They drove toward White Sands, watching the sunrise in all its splendor.

For a time, they traveled with the clopping of hooves and the crinkling of the dried leaves under the buggy wheels as the only sounds of their journey. Anne, for all her loquaciousness, never felt the need to prattle on in the company of true kindred spirits. Instead, she allowed herself to enjoy the glow of the new sun as it kissed the ruddy leaves of the trees along the road and contentment of being close to her true love.

She sighed a little, prompting Gilbert to ask her if something was wrong.

"No, everything is perfectly, beautifully right. In fact, I don't know if anything has ever felt right-er than being right here, with you. I used to imagine all these dreamy tales full of romance and poetry, and I envisioned that would be the most perfect life. Then that was all in front of me, and I realized what I really wanted was someone who belonged in my life, who I could talk to — or be silent with — and someone who knows me and understands me. And now here I am — with all I could have imagined."

For a moment, Gilbert couldn't speak. How many years had he waited for this? How many times had he wondered if this day would ever come? He took one hand off the reins and slid it instead around Anne, wishing she never had to leave his side.

"I can't tell you how many times I made this journey back when we were teaching and wished I could be talking to you," he said.

"And I suppose I should be on the lookout for all the girls of White Sands who no doubt were in love with you when you taught there," Anne said. "I'm sure there will be hearts broken all over when they learn you're engaged."

"I don't know about that. I'm not aware of any hearts I've broken, but I'm certain you broke at least two."

Anne looked away. "Oh, it may have been more than two," she said coyly.

Gilbert studied her for a second, trying to determine whether she was teasing him. But he could tell by the faint flush that Anne was in earnest.

"So, how many are we talking?"

Anne pondered the question for a moment. "Well, I guess I don't believe I ruined anyone for all time. And besides you and Roy, I don't believe I was to blame. But yours certainly weren't the only proposals I received."

Gilbert watched her for a second as a small smile crept on her face. "I suppose I can tell you about all the others," she said finally.

"Are you certain we have enough time to cover all of them? Perhaps we should drive to Charlottetown instead."

"I'll just start at the beginning," Anne said, looking around at the vacant road as if someone might jump out. "I did promise Jane I'd never tell anyone about the first, but I think I can trust you."

"Jane?"  
>"Yes."<p>

"Jane proposed to you?" Gilbert asked in confusion.

"In a manner of speaking. It was New Year's Eve our first year at Redmond, and Jane spent the night at Green Gables," Anne began.

"I do remember you being a little out of sorts after that," Gilbert said.

"Well, Jane asked me what I thought of her brother Billy, and since I really never had thought anything about him, I didn't even know how to answer. Then she wanted to know what I would think of him as a husband! Jane said he wanted to marry me and got her to ask me for him. When I got my wits about me, I told her I never could marry Billy and that I hoped he wouldn't feel too badly. And that's when she told me that he would be fine, because he was quite certain Nettie Blewett would have him, and she'd be a better match. So, I doubt very much that I broke his heart."

Gilbert had been trying very hard to maintain a straight face at the thought of Anne's ordeal, but he couldn't contain his mirth by the end of the tale and began laughing uncontrollably.

"Gilbert! I promise you, I was upset at the situation. I had always imagined my first proposal would be romantic and special. So, to have it come by proxy and to learn that I was the unknowing rival of Nettie Blewett, I can tell you, it was quite devastating," Anne said. But she couldn't help herself and joined in with Gilbert's laughter, the lingering sting of her first proposal finally dissipated.

"So, who came next?" Gilbert asked when they finally stopped laughing.

"I'm surprised you don't know about this one."

"Ah, I suppose that would be Mr. Sloane," Gilbert said. "I never knew for sure, but I always wondered what soured him on you."

"Yes, spring semester of our freshman year, he came to my boarding house and, of course, sat on one of Miss Ada's cushions and proposed to me. I tried to let him down easily, but he ended up saying some rather nasty things, and my temper got the best of me, as it does. It was even more disagreeable than the first proposal. I may have broken Charlie's heart, but I am certain I never encouraged him."

Gilbert smiled and squeezed Anne's shoulder. "No, I would say that was pure Sloanishness at work."

"The next was the most disagreeable, though," Anne said ruefully. "I suppose it was because I should have said yes."

"Oh, and who was that?" Gilbert asked with a smile.

Anne smiled back a little sadly. "I cried for hours afterward, and I was so miserable all summer. I missed you. I can't believe what a fool I was!"

Gilbert leaned down and pressed his lips softly to hers. "I missed you, too. But it all worked out. Tell me instead, who was your next victim."

Anne smiled. "That may be stranger still than even Billy Andrews. It was the hired boy next door to where I boarded when I taught last summer at the Valley Road school. I never really had even a conversation with him, but he came by one night and said he planned to rent a place of his own and would need a woman. Then he asked if I would 'hev' him. That was romance, with a vengeance," Anne said with a sigh.

"And, I take it, you wouldn't 'hev' him?" Gilbert teased. He removed his arm from around Anne's shoulders where it had been resting as they neared White Sands.

Anne rolled her eyes at him. "Obviously not. Well, after that it was just Roy, and I did feel badly about that, because I had given him every reason to believe I was in love with him, even though I realized I never was."

"Well, Miss Shirley, that is quite the list. And you're certain you won't be regretting any of those?" Gilbert asked as he turned the buggy toward a small mercantile.

"No, I think things turned out just how they were supposed to," Anne said with a smile. "Now, you still haven't told me the purpose of our drive here."

"Well, we're going to this store, first of all," Gilbert said as he stopped the buggy. "The parents of one of my favorite students own it, and I always planned to return here for this particular errand."

"Which is?" Anne asked as he lifted her out.

Gilbert didn't answer as he led her into the store and to a little case of jewelry at the counter.

"Well, it wouldn't exactly be proper not to get you an engagement ring, would it? And I wanted you to pick it out," he said finally, waving his hand at the case.

Anne gasped a little at the pretty things before her. "But shouldn't you save your money for medical school?"

Gilbert smiled. "Oh, I've had some set aside for this for … well, for awhile. So don't worry about that. Now, tell me: What would you like? Here are the diamonds."

Anne hesitated for a moment as she looked into the case. "I think I'd prefer pearls. _I've never really liked diamonds since I found out they weren't the lovely purple I had dreamed. They will always suggest my old disappointment."_

_"__But pearls are for tears, the old legend says," Gilbert objected._

_"__I'm not afraid of that. And tears can be happy as well as sad. My very happiest moments have been when I had tears in my eyes — when Marilla told me I might stay at Green Gables — when Matthew gave me the first pretty dress I ever had — when I heard that you were going to recover from the fever. So give me pearls for our troth ring, Gilbert, and I'll willingly accept the sorrow of life with its joy."*_

Gilbert took Anne's left hand and kissed it, just where a ring would sit. "Whatever you want, Queen Anne."

Anne looked through the rings in the case, her eyes falling finally on a delicate circlet of pearls. One larger pearl sat in the middle of a gold band, with two smaller pearls on either side. The creamy orbs glistened, and Anne could see in their depths the joys and sorrows of a happy life at Gilbert's side.

"I … I think I like that one."

Gilbert stepped away for a moment, and returned with the clerk who opened the case and handed the ring to Gilbert.

He took Anne's hand then and gently slid the ring on her finger. He ran his fingers back down hers and she clasped her fingers around his. For a moment, they both looked at the ring sparkling on her slender finger. Then their eyes met and they both smiled.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I love it," Anne said softly, the tears foretold by the gems on her finger shining in her eyes.

The clerk, experienced in such encounters, had slipped away for a moment, and Gilbert, seeing they were alone, kissed her gently.

"Should we get it?" he asked her.

Anne nodded, her starry gray eyes shining at him just as he had hoped they would since the first time he saw her.

"Because you know, I won't take it back. You're going to be stuck with me now," Gilbert teased.

"I think I can live with that," Anne replied.

…

After the ring was purchased, they had lunch at the White Sands hotel and walked along the beach in the warm afternoon sun. Then they got back in the buggy and started their journey back to Avonlea.

Anne unconsciously ran her right hand over her pearls as they drove, a small smile playing on her lips.

"It looks lovely on you," Gilbert said softly.

"It is beautiful," Anne replied. "Gilbert, when you said you had been saving for awhile for this, what did you mean by awhile?"

Gilbert grinned guiltily. "I don't know. I had a little set aside when I was teaching, but I don't know that I would admit to myself at first why I had started that. But by the time we left for Kingsport, I had decided that was its purpose."

"You knew? Even then?"

"I told you: I was in love with you from the moment you smashed that slate over my head. I didn't realize it at first, of course. And even when I did, I thought it no use, since you wouldn't even talk to me," Gilbert said with a little laugh. "But once we were friends and I really got to know you, well, it just grew and grew."

"And you never used the money for anything else, even …" Anne's voice trailed off.

"No. I thought about it from time to time, of course," he said with a smile. "When I heard for the first time about Gardner, I thought about spending it all in some rash fashion and forgetting the whole thing. But I couldn't. I just couldn't let myself give up that hope, I guess. And I certainly didn't want to forget about you."

Anne swallowed hard, imagining all she had put him through. "And you never thought it would be easier just to find some other girl?"

Gilbert laughed. "Oh, of course it would have been easier. But I have never met anyone who could hold a candle to you for making me laugh or think. I never enjoyed anyone's company like I did yours. And I just never could picture a life with anyone but you."

Anne laid her hat, which had been sitting in her lap, by her side and laid her head against Gilbert's shoulder.

"It's funny, given how long it took me to realize it, but I never could imagine my life without you, either. I remember when Diana told me about her engagement, and as she talked about her plans for her housekeeping, I started imagining my own little house o' dreams. And no matter how hard I tried to make you go away, you were there. I wish I had just listened a little harder to my own heart instead of believing that love had to look like it did in my novels."

"So at least a part of you knew back then, too?" Gilbert asked as he wrapped his arm around Anne.

She smiled as she nestled into his side. "I guess I did."

_* From "Anne's House of Dreams."_


	6. Wednesday, Sept 7, 1887

_(Thank you so much for your lovely reviews, and I'm sorry it's taken so long to update this. I blame a combination of holidays and writer's block. I anticipate three more chapters after this one, and hopefully the inspiration will flow a little faster this time.)_

**Wednesday, Sept. 7, 1887**

"Yes, yes, it's finally official," Mrs. Rachel Lynde told Mrs. Harmon Andrews triumphantly.

Her ankle finally able to support her substantial burden, Mrs. Lynde had wasted no time in getting around to the neighbors to discuss the biggest news that had circulated the small town since Gilbert's recovery. Already, she had been by to see Mrs. Harrison, much to the chagrin of Mr. Harrison, who had enjoyed more than anyone the break from the incessant gossip and scolding that came with such a visit. Then, she went on to see Mrs. Sloane, who still felt a little lingering irritation at Anne, and Mrs. Barry, who already knew the basics from her daughter but nonetheless enjoyed, as everyone else did, Mrs. Lynde's inevitable spin.

But the visit to the Andrews abode was the one Mrs. Lynde most relished, having endured Mrs. Andrews bragging at the announcement of Jane's engagement and subsequent marriage to the Winnipeg millionaire. And if Mrs. Lynde did carry on a bit about the betrothal, well, Mrs. Andrews really could be insufferable.

"Anne even came home last night with the sweetest pearl engagement ring," Mrs. Lynde said, forgetting for a moment, that she had scoffed the prior evening at the choice of such an untraditional stone.

"Well, well, I suppose she had to give in to poor Gilbert now, seeing as how nothing _else_ came from her time in college," Mrs. Andrews said with a smug smile. As if the news an insignificant orphan was engaged to a farm boy from Avonlea could rival the event that was her Jane's wedding, she thought.

"Indeed, that's not the case," Mrs. Lynde protested. "Why, I've never seen two people so happy. And of course, from what I've gathered, Anne had her choice of men at Redmond. Of course, she and Gilbert always were meant to be together. Anyone can see that. I can't imagine that she could have preferred _anyone_ who wasn't from the island."

Mrs. Lynde hid a little smirk at her jab. Mrs. Andrews must be reminded that _some_ people need not travel to lands unknown to find a man. And that Anne had landed the boy the other mothers of the village had hoped in secret would find an interest in their own daughters was all the better for the crowing.

"And when is the wedding?"

"It won't be for some time yet. Gilbert intends to become a doctor, you know," said Mrs. Lynde, again trying to remind Mrs. Andrews of Anne's luck.

"I guess we'll just have to see if it comes to pass then. And if it does, well, at least Anne is used to the more basic ways of life. It's a shame her domestic skills have been so neglected. Not like my Jane, who doesn't even get to cook or clean, though she was brought up so well in it," Mrs. Andrews said. Like a poor country doctor could really give anyone a life as her daughter now had!

"Oh, I daresay Anne will be just fine. Marilla Cuthbert raised her, after all. And she has such a way with children. That should serve her as well as all the training in the kitchen," Mrs. Lynde replied.

Mrs. Andrews was not going to concede defeat and of course neither was Mrs. Lynde. And so it continued, until Mrs. Lynde decided it was high time to make her next stop.

Anne and Gilbert were blissfully unaware of the gossip, though neither would have been surprised to hear of it. Instead, they had made their way to their apple tree to gather the now ripened fruits from its branches. To be more specific, Gilbert was doing most of the gathering.

"Anne? Where did you go with that basket?" he called from his perch in the tree. "Anne?"

"Hmmm?" was her initial reply. "Oh, I'm sorry, darling. I got caught up in watching the leaves fall. Have you ever thought that a tree shedding its leaves in the fall is its way of crying for the lost summer? Soon its branches will be bare, then it will be buried beneath a blanket of snow, forsaken until spring brings it new life."

Gilbert shook his head with a smile. "You're the only person I know who thinks like that," he said, plopping a few apples into the basket she held. "But I like hearing about it."

"Good," Anne replied. "Because I really doubt I'm ever going to outgrow it at this point. It really is remarkable how far I've come in keeping my imagination in check when you think about how absentminded I used to be."

Soon the basket was full, and Gilbert swung himself out of the tree. Anne watched in approval, remembering a month earlier when Gilbert had found her in the same spot. He had barely recovered from the fever then, and he was still pale and thin and easily tired. Now his color and endurance had returned, though he was still a bit thinner than he used to be.

She smiled as he wiped his hands on his brown trousers and moved to pick up the basket.

"What are you so happy about?" Gilbert asked. He raised the question not because it was unusual for Anne to be happy but because he hoped he might be part of the reason why.

"Oh, I was just thinking about how far you've come in your recovery. Why, you're almost completely back to normal," Anne answered. She tried to take one of the basket handles from him, but he moved it out of her reach. "Let me help you carry it."

"I am quite well enough to carry a half bushel of apples, thank you," he said turning his head in a manner quite reminiscent of the girl walking beside him. "Besides, I wouldn't want you to get that ring dirty."

"I have another hand," Anne replied. "Where are we taking these?"

"I want some to take back to Kingsport with me. Can't find the likes of these in the city, you know."

Anne felt her stomach knot up but tried to keep the gloom she felt every time she thought about the end of the week from showing on her face. "Of course," she said quietly.

Gilbert stopped and put the basket down.

"I told you I would help you carry it," Anne scolded.

"That's not the problem," he replied as he grabbed her around the waist. He leaned his forehead against hers. "If you don't want me to go …"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Gilbert Blythe! Of course I don't want you to go, but you have to. I'm dreading Saturday already, but I'd never stand in the way of your dream. You want to be a doctor, and you're going to be a wonderful one."

Gilbert kissed her. "If you're certain …"

"Yes, I'm certain! I love you. Do you think I could live with myself if I stood in the way of the goal you've had for so long?"

Gilbert smiled. "Did you know you were the first person I ever told I wanted to be a doctor?"

Anne looked at him incredulously. She remembered clearly the day he shared that with her. But they hadn't even been friends for that long then; surely there must have been someone else.

"I didn't know that," she replied.

"You were the only person I knew who understood my ambitions and dreams and plans. You wouldn't laugh at me or tell me I should stay on the farm. So, when I decided what I wanted to do with my life, I couldn't wait to share it with you," Gilbert said.

Anne smiled and tried to blink back a tear threatening to fall from her eye. She leaned into him and kissed him, remembering what she had promised him, that she wouldn't spend her time missing him while she was still with him.

"And that's why you have to go, and become a wonderful doctor. Because I've always known you wouldn't be content to just do whatever comes along, and I want you to have every dream you've ever dreamed."

"The most important one already came true at least," Gilbert replied as he smiled down at her.

He picked up his basket again and they resumed their walk, talking and laughing and both trying as hard as they could to forget that such moments would be rare for the next three years.

…

They reached the Blythe home to leave the apples but found the path to the house blocked by a collection of cats, oranges and tabbies and one black one with a white patch over his left eye. Anne stooped down to pet the black one, who rose up on his hind legs to meet her hand.

"Oh, you're a nice kitty, aren't you?" she crooned at the contented cat.

Gilbert's mother came down from the porch, a sparkle in her eye at the sight of her son and Anne. Not for the first time she regretted her cool treatment of Anne the summer prior. She still didn't know what had happened between the two of them — and assumed she never would — but anyone could see how happy they made each other.

"Why, Anne, are you fond of cats?" she asked with a pleasant smile.

Gilbert watched as an unusual grin passed over Anne's face.

"Yes, cats seem to have grown on me. Aunt Jamesina, who kept house for my friends and me in Kingsport, brought two with her, and another adopted me. I never thought I'd get so fond of them, but they are delightful creatures."

"What happened to Rusty when you left, Anne?" Gilbert asked.

"Aunt Jimsie kept him. I knew Davy would just tease him if I brought him home, and since I'll be in Summerside, it seemed like a shame to separate him from Joseph and the Sarah-cat."

"That's a shame. There's always room for more cats here," Gilbert said, picking up an orange kitten that began to purr in his arms.

"Oh, don't let your father hear you say that. I believe I'm testing his limits the way it is," Mrs. Blythe said with a laugh. "Gilbert always has aided and abetted me in my fascination with these animals."

Anne glanced at Gilbert and her eyes softened as she watched him playing with the kitten, so gentle and sweet. She recalled what he had told her about wanting a big family. She could see him holding a baby or playing with a toddler on the lawn. The pace of her heart picked up at the thought.

"Anne, will you be coming to Bright River with us on Saturday to see Gilbert off?" Mrs. Blythe asked, her voice suspending Anne's visions.

"Of course she is," Gilbert answered for her.

Anne nodded. "If it's not too much of an imposition …"

"Nonsense, dear, you must come with us," Mrs. Blythe said warmly.

"Then, yes, I'll see you Saturday," Anne said. "Now I must be going. Marilla is expecting me home."

"I'll walk you home," Gilbert said.

…

They strolled hand in hand down the path, a much more leisurely pace than would have been approved of by the waiting Marilla.

"So, what were you thinking of when my mother asked you if you like cats?"

Anne laughed. "Oh, just a memory."

"Of what?"

Anne flushed a little. "It's just … well … remember when I told you that Roy's mother and sister never really liked me? Well, the first time I met them, they came to Patty's Place and looked quite condescendingly upon the cats. And his mother asked me if I was fond of cats. And, you know, I really never was before Rusty, but the first thing I thought of was your mother and how much she liked them. So, I told her they are delightful creatures. I was thinking of how your mother would have approved of that, and it didn't bother me as much that Mrs. Gardner clearly did not. I had quite forgotten about it."

"Well, my mother adores you, so you don't need to worry about that," Gilbert said, squeezing her hand.

"Good, because I'm quite fond of her, too. However," Anne said, swinging around to face Gilbert. "I think I'm fonder still of her son."

"Really? Well, that is good to know," he replied as he wrapped his arms around her.

And as he kissed her, Anne decided Marilla wouldn't mind waiting a little longer for her return.


	7. Thursday, Sept 8, 1887

_(Thank you for your kind words and encouragement. It does make it easier to keep writing!)_

**Thursday, Sept. 8, 1887**

Most of the clothes to go to Summerside had been folded and placed in the trunk. Anne put in the last book and closed the lid. All that remained to be added were a few items she'd still need at Green Gables until she left and the green dress she planned to wear to an A.V.I.S. party the next night.

All morning she'd packed and mended and planned. It was a chore she disliked even when she looked forward to a journey, and certainly Anne had mixed feelings at best about going to Summerside.

The move there had seemed like a much-need fresh start at the beginning of the summer, when her future seemed to stretch, bleak and empty, before her. But her fresh start had come in a much better way, with the realization of her feelings for Gilbert and learning that he still felt the same about her. So while she still looked forward to the challenges being the principal of a high school were sure to hold, it was not without sadness that the summer had to end at all.

Anne rather would have spent her morning with Gilbert than in packing, since she'd have most of Saturday to finish her preparations. But Gilbert had to pack his own things for his Saturday departure, so Anne decided she may as well be done with the disagreeable task.

"How empty my little room seems whenever I pack away all my things to leave. I'm certain it misses me when I'm gone. Perhaps the ghost of my childhood comes and fills it in my absence."

Anne almost could see the forlorn waif with the tight red braids and the tight, ill-fitting dress who first came to the East Gable so many years earlier as she turned toward the mirror. But instead of braids, her hair was twisted and coiled and puffed on top of her head, and the cream-colored blouse she wore showed she wasn't quite as skinny as she had been, just as the soft smile at her lips showed she no longer was the unloved, unwanted little girl.

Her smile deepened as she thought of the love that surrounded her since she came to Avonlea — of Matthew and Marilla, of Diana and the rest of her friends, and finally of Gilbert. Her mind lingered momentarily on the latter: on the way his clear eyes sparkled as he gazed at her, the way her heart raced when he took her hand in his, the way her mind drifted away as he kissed her.

As if on cue, Anne turned to the window to see Gilbert approaching from the distance. She leaned at the sill and watched the tall, broad-shouldered figure appear.

Soon she bounded down the stairs and out the door to meet Gilbert in the garden. She drew herself up against him, her hands on either side of his face, and kissed him. And they walked hand in hand into the afternoon sun.

The ramble was to be their last until the next summer, unless the winter was mild enough to allow it at Christmastime, and so they took their time visiting all their old haunts. They stopped finally in Hester Gray's garden, where they had sealed their love for each other less than a week before.

Anne sat beneath an old oak tree, her legs out in front of her, and Gilbert laid his head in her lap, resting upon her billowing skirts. Anne ran her right hand unconsciously through his hair, eliciting a sigh from him.

"Are you looking forward to beginning your medical course?" she asked.

"Oh, certainly. There's so much to learn," Gilbert answered, grasping the hand that wasn't occupied with his curls and bringing it to his lips. "Though I wish I didn't have to leave you to learn it all."

"I'm sure you'll be so busy you won't even miss me," Anne teased as she looked down at him.

Gilbert turned his head and met her gaze. "I'll miss you every day."

Anne bit her lip and nodded. "I'll miss you, too."

They remained there, eyes locked on one another until Anne worried she would begin blubbering.

"Do you know anyone else in the program?" she asked to end the silence.

"Just a few. Will Parker and Roger Galbraith will be starting with me. And I know a few of the fellows who started last year."

"So you won't be completely alone in Kingsport," Anne said.

"No. And then Tim Jenkins, who boarded at the same place as Charlie and me, will be starting law school."

"Is Christine going to be in Kingsport again?" Anne asked, her calm, even voice belying what she actually felt.

"I don't think so. I believe she was married this summer," Gilbert answered. He studied Anne's face for a moment. Not being able to read her mind, he marveled at her utter lack of jealousy or worry. He thought of how he had wanted to know every detail of her relationship with Roy Gardner and was even more impressed by the trust Anne seemed to have in him.

If Anne had asked for more details, he would have told her everything. What he _had_ told her was true: To him, Christine had been just a friend, and he had known of her engagement from the moment he met her. But no story is as simple as that.

When Ronald Stuart had written, asking Gilbert to pick his sister up from the train, the letter warned of Christine's nature.

"Don't go falling in love with her, though," Ron had written. "She can be a bit of a flirt and sometimes 'forgets' to mention she's been engaged forever to Andrew Dawson."

Gilbert had laughed a little to himself. He had little interest even then, after Anne had told him she'd never love him, in falling in love with anyone who wasn't Anne.

Ron's letter proved to be true. Christine batted the lashes over her dark eyes, and her hand lingered on his arm as he picked up her suitcase at the station that January day. Gilbert had thought it better to let her know he wasn't interested.

"So, tell me about your fiancé," he told her.

Christine had giggled a little. "Oh, Andrew, well, he's just a dear. He doesn't even mind that I'm here to have all sorts of fun."

He'd shown her around the campus as he'd promised, and it was more than apparent that Christine's engagement was a bit of a back-up plan, an insurance policy to keep her from being an old maid if she didn't find a better match. And though she'd size up every male they encountered, it seemed from the first she found Gilbert to be the one she was seeking.

Gilbert hadn't had any intention of falling into her trap. But then word of Anne's infatuation with Roy Gardner began to reach him through campus gossip, and he asked Christine to accompany him to the reception for the seniors in February.

Gilbert could have sworn he felt someone looking at him as he talked to Christine under the palms. He turned just enough to see Anne's willowy shape across the room, the rosebuds on her cream dress nearly a reflection of the flush on her cheeks. She was standing by a tall, dark-haired man who Gilbert assumed was Roy Gardner.

And Gilbert decided maybe it was time to try to get over her. He spent more and more time with Christine. She was charming and personable, and she was certainly lovely. And once or twice he almost convinced himself he could fall in love with her.

But each time, it seemed, he'd catch a glance of Anne across the courtyard or through the halls of Redmond. And the things that bothered him about Christine — both the superficial, like the way her lumbering walk compared to Anne's springy gait, and the deeper problems, like her dislike of children and her nonstop talking about nothing of interest — would grate at him more than usual.

But that June day when Anne walked toward him at the top of the Orchard Slope staircase, her soft, white dress clinging against her slender body, lilies of the valley in her hair, he realized he would always love her. He dropped the act of the indifferent acquaintance that he had worn since she'd rejected his proposal and tried to reclaim whatever remained of their friendship at Fred and Diana's wedding. Better to have a pleasant last memory of her than the scene of his heartbreak.

As their senior year wore on, he had spent less and less time socializing and more and more time with his books. It was easier that way — easier to keep hope that he could win Anne's love if he didn't see her on Gardner's arm, easier to believe he could have a happy life without her when he didn't see her at all. The only times he ventured out were at Christine's behest, but he assumed his indifference to the scene made him a less than appealing escort.

But Christine didn't seem to grasp his lack of interest. She flirted and teased. She'd put her photograph in his pocket book. Once, she shared a philopena with him, and he knew she was expecting more than just a friendly greeting in return for the almond.

Gilbert knew, for once and all, he'd never love anyone but Anne when he saw her at convocation, his flowers in her arms. But he dutifully walked Christine home from the convocation dance that night.

He stopped at her doorstep, intending to bid her goodbye as he was leaving for Avonlea the next day. She ignored his outstretched hand and moved closer to him, rising on her toes until her face was next to his, with all the confidence of a woman who had done so before.

Gilbert backed up.

"Christine, you're engaged," he said reproachfully.

"But I wouldn't have to be," she responded.

Gilbert turned away from her for a moment and spotted Claire Hallett across the street. Why would the most odious of people have to witness such a moment? He shook his head at Christine. "It wouldn't matter if you weren't."

"She's going to marry Royal Gardner. Everyone says she is."

Gilbert looked at her in shock. He was certain he'd never told Christine of his feelings for Anne.

"Oh, everyone knows you're in love with her. But she clearly doesn't feel the same. Why don't you just move on?"

"I'll always love her," he said. "It doesn't matter what she does or who she marries. I'll always love her."

Christine turned on her heel toward the door. "Well, good luck, then. And thank you for all your kindness," she said coldly.

Gilbert hadn't spoken to Christine after that. Her brother mentioned something about a wedding in a letter earlier in the summer. He was glad when Anne didn't ask for more details about Christine. He didn't want Anne to know how empty he'd felt without her and how desperately he had wanted to stop loving her.

So Gilbert thanked his lucky stars he had found it impossible to fall in love with Christine as he gazed up at Anne — the only woman he'd ever loved or would ever love.

"Just promise me you won't stay holed up in your room studying all the time in Kingsport." Anne ordered, as she stopped running her fingers through his curls and instead stroked the faint stubble along his jaw. "You'll take care of yourself, for me?"

"For you, and only for you," Gilbert answered.

"Because, you know, three years is a long time to worry about you. I don't want you to come back to me all worn out again," Anne said.

"But you'll still love me? Even if I do?" he teased. "Or even if I become completely insufferable because of all the knowledge I'll gain?"

"Oh, I suppose so," Anne said. "For

'_Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_

_Within his bending sickle's compass come;_

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_

_But bears it out even to the edge of doom._

_If this be error and upon me prov'd,_

_I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd_.'*"

Gilbert pulled himself up from his resting spot and took her hand.

"Perhaps we should decide when the wedding will be so I have something to keep in mind," he said.

"Well, when will you be finished with your course?"  
>"It will be July of 1890," he said, thinking how long that seemed.<p>

Anne thought for a moment. "And then you'll have to decide where we'll settle, and we'll have to find our house o' dreams."

Gilbert let out a laugh. "_I'll_ decide where we'll settle? I'm sure _you'll_ have something to say on the matter."

"'Whither thou goest, I will go**,'" she replied with a smile. "What if we get married on Sept. 2 — the anniversary of our engagement? I think that would be beautiful."

"It will be. So long as you're there, it will be," Gilbert said. "And just think: That's less than three years from now."

Anne nodded. "I'll be counting down the days."

_*Shakespeare's Sonnett 166_

_** Ruth 1:16_


	8. Friday, Sept 9, 1887

_(Thank you for all the feedback on Christine. That's the way I've always pictured her, and I'm glad to finally have an outlet for my imagination! And Katerina95, since I can't PM this to you, I'm glad you caught the Claire Hallett reference. She had to have some information for her snide little comment that Anne remembered 18 years later! We're nearing the end here, but there will be one more chapter after this one.)_

**Friday, Sept. 9, 1887**

Anne made a quick run to the post office Friday morning, as she was expecting responses from a few editors for her little sketches. The checks that often accompanied the letters would be welcome as she settled in at Summerside.

One of those parcels was there, but she was far more excited to see the envelope from "Mrs. J. Blake, Kingsport," and she ripped into it on a bench outside the post office.

_Most exalted Queen Anne,_

_I'll have you know that the moment I saw your name on the envelope moments ago, I had to read what you had to say immediately. I've been awaiting news for weeks and weeks, and now that I know for sure that I did something good with my meddling, I'll have the biggest head on Patterson Street. Though I'm sure there are some parishioners there who already see me that way…_

_I couldn't be happier for you if I tried! I'm so glad to hear you finally came to your senses about Gilbert. I foresee many happy years in your future._

_Naturally, I went back and forth for weeks about whether to write him about you and Roy, and I finally decided I would regret it if I didn't. I didn't, however, anticipate the genuine glee I feel now. Honey, it does feel positively magnificent to help a friend find the happiness I have with Jo!_

_I'm writing this little epistle from the Patterson Street post office. I had to respond just as soon as I could. As luck would have it, I had a notebook with me, and I bought an envelope. But I had no pen and had to beg one off the other people in the post office. Would you believe it, it took me five people before someone had a pen they would let me borrow? I think the previous four had pens but simply didn't want to lend their property to a mad woman! I am sure I seem positively crazy, and in no way befitting a minister's wife. I can hear Aunt Jimsie proclaiming the further downfall of "poor" Jo's career with me at his side, but I promise you we are perfectly happy._

_And speaking of happy, I have a little nugget of news for you, as well: Soon there will be three in our little manse. I am absolutely giddy with excitement, though I'm mortified at the thought of having to settle on a single name. I may fall to writing my favorites on a board and stabbing at them with a hat pin!_

_I'll write a proper letter soon. I'm nearly bouncing as I write this at the counter, and I fear if I don't conclude soon, my reputation will be complete around here._

_All my love,_

_Phil_

_P.S. As for whether I was baiting you … Do you really believe I would lead you on in that manner? Don't answer that. I'd have been perfectly delighted had you married Roy and settled in Kingsport, but I wondered all along if you were really happy. You certainly never were as natural with him as with Gilbert. I really wondered when I saw whose flowers you carried at convocation. (Don't be vexed — of course I read the cards.) Once you refused Roy, I knew for certain you were in love with Gilbert, and I simply couldn't help put my oar in, with all good intentions._

_PGB_

_P.P.S. Maybe don't mention any of the gossipy little comments I passed along to you the next time you see Jo. I'm not sure where good intentions fall when determining whether one broke the Ninth Commandment._

_PGB_

Anne chuckled at the letter, but shuddered at the thought of what would have happened had Phil decided _not_ to write to Gilbert. She ran her right hand over the little circlet of pearls. Already it was a part of her, so much so that when she took it off she felt the phantom pressure of it around her finger. It was unsettling to think of the many different paths they could have taken without Phil's input.

She walked back toward Green Gables, her feet moving her down the well-trod path while her mind meandered through all the things that could have happened had Gilbert not learned she wasn't going to marry Roy Gardner. Gilbert might not have gotten well so fast, might not have gotten well at all! Or, he may have gotten well but continued to avoid her and never would have learned how she cared!

Anne stopped halfway across the bridge over the pond and looked out at the deep blue water. Her ponderings were interrupted by the sudden sensation of arms around her waist. She leaned back into Gilbert's chest and breathed in the scent of him. It had been less than a week since their first kiss, since the first time she'd felt his arms around her like this, but in that time, but the feel of him holding her had become familiar and comfortable.

"You look thoughtful this morning," Gilbert said, his face tilted into Anne's hair.

"Oh, I just had a letter from Phil, and it made me think," she answered, turning to face him.

"Hmmm. Phil must have changed some since I saw her last to make you think about something," Gilbert said, a teasing smile on his face. Anne recalled the ceaseless friendly barbs Gilbert and Phil had bandied about and laughed.

"You know she's not as shallow as she lets on," Anne said. "And we do owe her quite a lot."

"I suppose we do," Gilbert said.

Anne looked down, watching the water below the bridge as it rippled in the breeze. "Do you think … if Phil hadn't written you … do you think we still could have ended up together?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Gilbert smiled. "I suppose there is no way to know for sure, but I'd like to think so. I've always believed you and I belong together."

"But I … so many things had to be so perfect to get to this point."

"Doesn't that show it was meant to be? We would have found our way back to each other, no matter what."

Anne leaned into him, laying her head against his chest as she nodded. Satisfied with his answer, she moved to more practical matters.

"What are you doing out this morning?" she asked him.

"I was just coming to find you. I don't believe we ever came to a conclusion about when we should go to that party tonight."

Anne giggled, remembering the conversation the evening prior as they wandered in the shade of Lover's Lane. They had so many more interesting things to talk about, or not talk about, too many looks and kisses and laughs to share, that such pragmatic matters as when to arrive at the A.V.I.S. party kept going by the wayside. The youth of Avonlea would expect them to be there, of course. The party was a sendoff for those going to Redmond, Gilbert for his medical course and Moody for his senior year, among them.

"I suppose if we go at 6 o'clock for supper, we could slip away a little early without seeming ungrateful," she said.

"Then I'll be by a bit before that," he said before kissing her and heading back for home.

…

Anne took her time getting ready for the party. Time had cured her of some amount of the vanity that had led her to try to dye her hair and her freckles, but in her heart of hearts she still wished the reflection in the mirror was more pleasing to her eyes. She'd never see what anyone else saw — the starry flash in her eyes, the creamy skin brought out by her red hair, the graceful movements. She only knew she would never have the raven hair — or the nut-brown hair or the golden hair — or the violet eyes or the dimples or any of the other features she had so yearned to have.

And maybe it wouldn't have mattered so much anymore, at an age where she really had become comfortable in her own shell, had she not felt so insignificant compared to the girls who had been on Gilbert's arm in the past. Anne would never feel she could compare to Ruby's vibrant golden beauty or Christine's elegance.

So she didn't understand why he stared when she emerged down the stairs and walked into the Green Gables kitchen. She looked down, expecting to find a rip or a stain or a run, for why else would he look at her so intensely?

Gilbert found his powers of speech had left him the moment Anne entered the room. He recognized the dress as the one Anne had worn to Alice Penhallow's wedding a week earlier, the day before he proposed. He remembered visiting with Anne that afternoon, a pile of filmy green fabric on her lap, and he recalled the vision he had of her in a green dress.

But the vision before him was even lovelier than he had pictured. A frilly pale green ruffle covered her shoulders and skirted along her collarbone, showing off the milky white throat above. The darker green silk of the bodice accentuated her slender figure, and the billowy skirt seemed to float as if it were part of her. As she neared him, the slender arms that had held the skirt off the floor instead reached toward him.

He extended his hands to meet hers, momentarily forgetting about the white rose he brought for her, a late bloom he'd snatched from his mother's rosebush on his way.

"Is … is that for me," Anne asked with a gesture to his right hand.

Gilbert blinked and his mind snapped back to reality. "Yes, it is," he said as he gave it to her.

Anne breathed in the sweet fragrance from its petals. "Thank you," she said, weaving it into her hair, just above her left ear. "It's beautiful."

He shook his head and cleared his throat. "Not compared to you," Gilbert said. He kissed her cheek, right below where the flower sat. "But I like white roses. They're so timeless and pure. They remind me of you."

Anne was certain the butterflies she felt couldn't have fluttered faster had he written a sonnet to her eyebrows.

…

The party was at the Pye's house. Such end of the summer parties had become a bit of a tradition in the past four years, and the Pye girls would never hear of it being held elsewhere. The house was large enough to accommodate all the youth of Avonlea, even if the occupants of the home themselves were seldom as hospitable.

Anne and Gilbert made their way hand-in-hand through the foyer and into the house. But it only took a few moments to realize how much had changed within the past four years. Few of their cohorts were to be found. Jane was honeymooning in Europe. Diana and Fred were home with the baby. Oliver Kimball and Carrie Sloane had married and gone west. Billy Andrews, of course, was settled with the former Nettie Blewett. More than a few others felt themselves too old to participate in such childish rites. And dear Ruby had been gone more than three years.

Oh, a few of the old set were there. Besides the Pye girls, Charlie Sloane had come, an opportunity to show off his fiancée, the snub-nosed, blue-eyed girl whose affections he had gained in the year after Anne had rejected his proposal. Moody Spurgeon MacPherson was another guest of honor, looking as solemn as any minister in training could look as he prepared to embark on his senior year.

But Anne felt strangely out of place upon seeing as many of her old pupils as her old friends and told Gilbert as much when they sat on the veranda to eat their supper.

"It makes me feel like I don't quite belong in this world anymore but haven't quite attained whatever maturity is necessary for the next," she said with a sigh. "Somehow, everyone has grown up around us."

Gilbert laughed at Anne's melodramatic stance. "Do you really feel that way, though, Anne? You don't think you've grown or developed or changed your mind about anything … or anyone?" he asked, adding the last with a sly smile.

Anne laughed. "Oh, I'm sure I have grown leaps and bounds since we sat here four years ago, but not as much as the others. Every time I see Diana with little Fred, I feel so hopelessly left behind. And as for changing my mind," she paused, squeezing Gilbert's hand. "I don't know that I ever changed my mind so much as got better acquainted with it."

"In any event," Gilbert said with a mischievous grin, "I shouldn't have to worry about you walking home with Charlie instead of me tonight, should I?"

"No, no. I think I'll stick with you."

…

As the evening went on, Anne wished she could have stuck with Gilbert a little more. But politeness dictated that she dance with the other fellows, too. After dances with Charlie and Moody and a few of the boys who to her would never seem older than they had been when she sat at the helm of the Avonlea School, she slipped outside, exchanging a glance with Gilbert.

She stood with her elbows resting on the fence and her chin in her hands, staring at a crescent moon that looked just the right shape for the man in the moon to settle into with a good book. She pondered on what one could see from that vantage point for a few moments until she felt the soft pressure of lips at her nape then along a trail to the front of her neck. She shivered.

"Are you cold?" Gilbert asked as he placed his jacket on her shoulders. Anne snuggled into it and didn't bother telling him that her shiver was as much from the sensation of his kisses as from the chill of the fall air. "I didn't mean to take so long in following you, but Charlie wouldn't stop telling me about his bookkeeping work, and then Josie cut me off as I headed for the door. I still don't know what she wanted."

"I'm sure she was just trying to slow you down from coming to me. I only spoke to her twice tonight; once she told me in a hushed tone that this color of green makes me look seasick and the other time she said something to the affect that she certainly wouldn't want to be engaged to someone who was going off to Kingsport without her."

"And what did you say?"

"I let the seasick comment go without a direct response. But to the other I mentioned it didn't pay to worry herself over being engaged to anyone going anywhere."

Gilbert laughed and took her hand. "Shall we go?"

Anne nodded, and they took their time walking the long roads through Avonlea, followed by a moonlit stroll down Lover's Lane. As they lingered beneath the maples, now nearly void of leaves after a particularly strong wind the night before, Gilbert pulled her close and held her. And they stayed there until the night was half through, neither wanting their lone week together to end.


End file.
